


Owe it All to You

by Mollythepathologist



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Molly is Mary, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mollythepathologist/pseuds/Mollythepathologist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall, Molly Hooper is torn apart by her guilt. A road to recovery from every tortuous event in the life of Molly Hooper</p>
            </blockquote>





	Owe it All to You

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is my first fic here and I don't have a beta, so please forgive my mistakes. Hopefully it's not to bad.

There was something to be said for the power of guilt. 

Molly Hooper didn't regret her decision to help Sherlock fake his death. How could she? He was her friend, someone she cared deeply for and being of sound mind, she was able to see his reasoning for why this was the only option. Moriarty had threatened those who Sherlock held dear, he couldn't have them knowing he was alive, or they would die. 

It seemed very straight forward and at the time Molly felt no shame in her actions, in fact she was proud that Sherlock thought enough of her to ask for her help. It made her feel important. 

And the adrenaline rush of the whole act went to her head, speeding her heart and sending endorphins running through her veins. The heady smell of chemicals in the air, the mystery and secrecy of their actions, was something new to her. Never before had she done something like that. 

She relished every second.

She feared every moment.

And then she watched them on that day. She saw the look of fear and heart-break on Johns face. The utter horror at the sight of his best friend falling to his death.

It wasn't until that second, when his blue eyes lost their shine, that she finally realized what she was doing. Up until that moment she had simply forgotten the human element of her actions, all she had thought about was the end result.

Everyone lives.

She'd forgotten the pain she would cause.

And it broke her.

After that day, Molly couldn't even leave her flat. She could do nothing, but lounge about, her mind whirring with anxiety. Rolling scenarios over and over in her mind. She saw their faces in her head, their looks of anguish, their pain, and finally the looks of anger and betrayal on their faces when Sherlock would finally return. 

It was absolutely horrifying. 

But no matter how she tried to hide away, it didn't take long for them to come to her. 

Because that's what friends did. They comforted each other. And Molly had been absent from the ritual. She had no tea's with Mrs. Hudson, no brief hugs to John or Lestrade. She was just gone. Hidden away in her flat or buried in her work. 

On one level it was understandable, everyone thought her behavior was due to grief and no one questioned her. 

For a few months at least.

But her constant avoidance of everyone she knew, drew questions. 

Mrs. Hudson was the first to try and reach her. Leaving a basket and a lovely letter on her doorstep when Molly didn't answer.

There was Greg, calling twice a day, leaving tender voice-mails, hoping she would respond to him. 

Sally and Phillip stopped by, close friends of hers, despite their rough opinion of Sherlock.

Even Mycroft reached for her, trying to pull her from her hermit like existence. 

But it was exactly three months following the fall that everything changed.

 

________________________________________________________________________

She'd been in the middle of her afternoon tea when the bell rang, and Molly immediately froze. She wondered who it could be this time, which one of her friends would she ignore.

"Molly?"

His voice was muffled, but unmistakable. 

"Look, I know you're in there, and if you won't open the door, then just listen." John said, his voice becoming clearer as she made her way to the door with gentle steps, resting her hands against the strong wood. Listening.

"I know- I know you loved him. I know you probably loved him in ways none of us will ever understand." he paused.

"You were there for him, before that idiot dragged me into his life, you were there. Listening to him and you were changing him even before I got there. You were softening him and you kept him sane. You helped him with his stupid experiments and stayed on those danger nights. I know you loved him and I'm sorry."

She heard him take a deep breath. Steadying his voice.

"I'm sorry, he didn't see how wonderful you are, how brilliant and kind and how much you matter to us. To all of us. Please Molly, you can't keep doing this. We all lost him, and we need you. He was my best friend and I miss him, but I'm moving on. I finally left Baker Street and just, you need to come back to us, move on. I don't think I can lose another friend."

Molly felt the tears welling in her eyes at his words, at the raw emotion in his voice and it took a great deal of strength not to open the door and apologize. 

There was silence and then she heard him sigh, heard the thump of his head on the hard wood as he rested it there. 

"Just think about it alright?" she heard him say.

And then he was gone and Molly, she slide down the door, her legs unable to hold her frame any longer and then the tears came. For the first time since all of this began, she cried.


End file.
